


Winter Dreaming

by gingerschnapps



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Mila is a sarcastic queen, Ukrainian!Mila, Yurio is a little punk, later Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky, victor just loves him so much, yuuri's anxiety
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-11 11:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8977363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingerschnapps/pseuds/gingerschnapps
Summary: After the Grand Prix Final, Yuuri moves to Russia with Victor to further both his skating career and their relationship.  Yuuri finds Russia quite different from what he expected and it seems that as soon as one challenge is vanquished, two others rise to take its place. But with Victor by his side, he's confident he can overcome anything.





	1. Overture

**Author's Note:**

> I'm quite nervous about sharing this. It has been literally years since I posted anything except the occasional fic exchange assignment. But Yuri!! On Ice has inspired me like nothing else and this fic would not leave me alone until I started writing it. This is planned to be only the beginning of a much larger work, so I hope people like it. More characters and tags will be added as the fic progresses.

"Come to Russia with me."

He cannot possibly have heard that correctly.  
It's the night after the Grand Prix Final. All the routines have been skated, the medals won, the hearts broken, the tears cried. After the intense emotions of the day - his decision, Victor's decision, the return of the accord between them, Yurio's amazing performance, his own brand-new world record - Yuuri feels bone-deep exhaustion weighing on him. He has done the impossible, against odds that a year ago he would have sworn were insurmountable. He has vindicated every person who ever had faith in him - Minako, Yuuko, his parents, Ciao Ciao. Phichit. Victor, oh Victor. He was so sure that the day had run out of ways to surprise him, and yet....and yet....

"Yuuri? Come to Russia with me?"

Yuuri looks up from his stretching exercises to find Victor's cerulean gaze bent upon him. His coach had been silent for so long that Yuuri had begun to think he had drifted off, as exhausted from the emotional day as he himself. 

Apparently Victor was not done with surprises quite yet. 

Yuuri slowly sits up. "Russia? Victor, why would I go to Russia?"

Victor sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. "Come sit with me, Yuuri," he says, patting the bed beside him. Yuuri scrambles to his feet, a trickle of worry sliding down his spine. Things had returned to normal between them so recently. Had he missed something? 

As soon as he is seated, Victor takes one of Yuuri's hands in both of his own and begins massaging it gently, thumbs working on the palm. "It's like this, _solnyshka_. Once more I have made two promises. I have promised you that I will remain as your coach until you win the Grand Prix final, and I have promised Yakov that I will return to my competitive career in time for Russia's national competition. Both are dear to my heart. I have been trying to work this out in my head. I cannot train in Russia and coach you in Japan at the same time. Not even I am that extraordinary. If I am to be competitive to my full potential, there is no coach for me but Yakov. Thus I must be in Russia." Victor pauses, and his fingers falter briefly before he continues. "Yet I cannot leave you. Even if I had not made you a promise, I would not willingly be parted from you. I know it is a lot to ask, that to do so would mean you changing your entire life just for me. Yet I can see no other way that we can make this work. So Yuuri, _solnyshka moyo_....I ask again, will you come to Russia with me?"

Yuuri stills completely, shock running through his body. In hindsight he feels he should have expected this - the conflict between Victor's competitive and coaching responsibilities was plain to anyone who thought about it for more than five seconds - but his tired brain had been too preoccupied to actually contemplate what it would mean. Move to Russia? With Victor? Yuuri jerks upright.

"But Yakov won't let you!!" he bursts out. "He doesn't like me! And Yurio will kill me!!"

Victor bursts out laughing. "Is that what you think?" he asks, amused. "It wasn't you that Yakov didn't like, it was me. He thought - still thinks - that I am just playing at being a coach, that I was deceiving you, taking advantage of my reputation and setting you up for failure. That I was letting my pride and arrogance ruin not only my own career but yours as well. As a skater he has only the greatest of respect for you, even as a rival. As for Yurio...I think you may still be surprised by him." Victor reclaims Yuuri's flailing hands with his own and stares him deep in the eyes, his expression abruptly sobering. "Yuuri. It is a large decision. I am not expecting a decision tonight, especially after you have had such a monumental day. I should not have mentioned it at such a time, and I am sorry. It had been on my mind and I felt I needed to make the option known. Take your time and consider carefully. For the rest of tonight," and Victor's mouth curves up gently, "for the rest of the night, your coach orders you to relax. Here, let me help."

Victor gently turns Yuuri around and starts massaging Yuuri's shoulders. Yuuri finds himself unconsciously relaxing into his hands, unable to resist the almost instinctual comfort he finds in even the smallest physical contact with Victor. Even after all these months it still amazes him that this is his life, that Victor Nikiforov is here with him, that he wakes up to Victor and eats breakfast with Victor and trains with Victor. He'd fallen in love with the legend so long ago, but the man was so much more.

But not even Victor's clever, gentle hands can distract Yuuri from his whirling thoughts at this decision laid before him. He sighs and closes his eyes, one hand unconsciously twisting in the fabric of the hotel coverlet. On some level, he'd known that a decision like this was coming. Returning to Hasetsu at the end of the previous season had been exactly the right decision for him. He'd been able to see his parents again and renew his connections not only with his family but with Minako and Yuuko, with all the people who had given him his start and made him the skater and person he was. It had allowed him to center himself in a way that hadn't been possible in Detroit, no matter how skilled a coach Ciao Ciao was. The relative isolation of Hasetsu had allowed him to work through his insecurities and mental blocks without having to worry about media attention or pressure from other skaters. But Hasetsu could only take him so far. It had been fine when he was a relative nobody, a skater who everyone assumed was past his peak and would never achieve the heights that had been predicted for him. Now, however, he was one of the top-ranked competitors in the world. He needed access to top-of-the-line training facilities with doctors, physiotherapists, opportunities for cross-training, and rinkmates to help him through. And in order for Victor to make a successful comeback, he would need the same things and more. Victor Nikiforov may have been the most extraordinary skater of his generation but not even he could coach himself to victory. As much as Yuuri's mind rebelled at the idea, his days of quiet isolation in Hasetsu with Victor all to himself were coming to an end.

But Russia? Really? Yakov was known to be exceptionally choosy over who he accepted to his rink. Indeed, these days it was rare for a Russian championship skater to not have Yakov as their coach. Conversely it was equally rare for Yakov to accept skaters not of either Russian or Eastern European nationality. At least in Detroit Yuuri had not been the only one far from home - he had always had Phichit, and the relationship they forged there was one that he was pretty sure would carry through his life. Victor said that Yakov respected Yuuri as a skater, but was that really true? With Victor's return Yakov would already have three of the top world skaters under his leadership - Victor, Yurio, Georgi. Would he really want to take responsibility for another, especially one who would not be skating for Russia?

But....there was Victor. Victor had given up his career to fly out to Japan, to a city he had never been to before, just to coach Yuri, a skater whose career was dying, on the strength of what? A Youtube video and one drunken interaction at a competition banquet? And if he hadn't done that, what would his life have been like? What would Yuuri's? He glances down at the gold ring glinting on his finger. He had tried to pass it off as a "good luck charm" but both he and Victor knew what it really was: a promise. Victor has risked so much, given up so much, just because he cares about Yuuri and wants him to be happy, successful, loved. Can Yuuri really do any less for the man he loves?

Abruptly Yuuri reaches up and grasps one of Victor's long, slender hands in his own, stilling their motion. Without turning, he says quietly, "Yes." Then, louder, "Yes, I will go to Russia with you, Victor. Yes, of course."

Victor goes absolutely still. Then: "You're sure?" he asks quietly. "This is a big decision. I do not want you to feel rushed. If you need more time to decide, I understand. I can wait as long as it takes."

Yuri pauses, then nods once, decisively. "You have given me so much, Victor, but my dream will always be alive so long as I am with you. It doesn't matter where we go. It's time for you to look after your own dreams. If Russia is where you need to be, then Russia is where we will go."

Silence.

Unnerved, Yuuri shimmies around to face Victor. The other man is just staring at him, his eyes shining and sparkling like Yuuri had never seen. Involuntarily he swallows, unable to fathom the sheer depth of love and tenderness in Victor's gaze. "Oh Yuuri," Victor whispers, his voice audibly cracking. "How is it you can do this to me? Every time I think I understand you, you exceed my expectations yet again." He brings their clasped hands to his lips and kisses Yuuri's ring, never breaking eye contact, and abruptly Yuuri finds it hard to breathe.

"I made you a promise, Vitya," he manages to choke out. "I'm not going to break it now."

Victor smirks. "Oh, it's Vitya now?" he teases in mock outrage. "Is that any way to speak to your coach?"

A blush rises in Yuuri's face and he opens his mouth to apologize before he recognizes the tell-tale glint in Victor's eye. Instead he whacks Victor with a nearby pillow. "Bad Victor. No katsudon for you."

Victor flops back dramatically. "Oh no, my katsudon!! I am wounded!! How could you do this to me, Yuuri? I trusted you!!! My heart is broken forever!!"

Yuuri giggles and flops down on Victor, tucking his head against Victor's shoulder. "Oh hush, old man. So much complaining," he says, poking him in the side.

"From Vitya to 'old man'?" Victor sighs. "I'm going to have to limit your exposure to Yurio, I see. He's having a detrimental effect on your manners." He wraps his arms around Yuuri and pulls him closer, resting his head against the top of Yuuri's. 

"What is Russia like?" Yuuri asks after a while.

Victor's arms tighten around Yuuri as he settles him more comfortably against his chest. Almost absently one of his hands comes up and starts to stroke Yuuri's hair and forehead. "Beautiful," he says at last. "Vast, stark, harsh sometimes, but.....beautiful. Russia is old, and she has endured much. The scars are still there, but we are a resilient people. And St Petersburg...oh Yuuri, you will love it. The city is so lovely. It was made to be the most beautiful city in the world and it shows. I will have so much to show you. I have a house there and we will live in it, you and me and Makkachin, and I will bring you to the sea and we will listen the gulls together." 

The soft love and tenderness in Victor's voice and the gentle stroking of his fingers was having a soporific effect on Yuuri's exhausted mind and body. He snuggled yet closer to Victor, so sleepy and relaxed and yet unwilling to go fully to sleep and let this moment pass away forever. "I want to see it with you," he murmured against Victor's chest. "I want to see everything with you. You know I would go anywhere for you, Vitya."

Yuuri feels Victor smile against his hair. "I do so love when you call me that," he murmurs. "Promise me to never call me anything else."

Yuuri grins and tucks his head more firmly against Victor's shoulder. "All these promises and I haven't even won a gold medal yet," he gently teases, his voice still faintly breathless.

Victor chuckles throatily. "We'll get you there. And then we can see to this golden promise." And, gently disentangling them, he kisses the gold ring still decorating his hand.


	2. Passepied

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All you lovely people who commented and kudos-ed, thank you so much!!! You've done so much to help me overcome my anxiety about sharing this story.
> 
> This chapter features Yuuri's arrival in Russia. Also angry Yurio and the arrival of Mila!! It's also about twice the length of the previous chapter, so...I hope you enjoy?

Yuuri hates flying.

"And you haven't seen Evgenia yet!! This is her. Litte darling - she's not even two yet and she can say almost ten words!! I'm sure she's a genius. Of course, I don't get to see her nearly enough. My daughter-in-law is so unfair, completely turned my poor boy against me. Mothers should be more important than wives, don't you agree? Of course you do, you're such a polite boy. I'm sure you'd never treat your own mother like that, no -"

Scratch that. Yuuri hates this flight in particular. And also his life.

After months of waiting, he is finally on his way to St Petersburg. Arrangements are complete, his belongings have been lovingly packed and sent on ahead, and Viktor is waiting to welcome him to Russia. The thought of seeing him again is the only thing keeping Yuuri from committing murder right now. He had been delighted to discover an empty seat beside him and had managed to nap his way across all of China and most of Russia, but the flight stopped in Moscow to pick up more passengers, and ever since then...

"And this is my Milochka!!! She's my youngest. Isn't she lovely?? Look at that hair! And that smile!! She's by far the prettiest of my daughters. She'd have to be, wouldn't she, looking so much like me, eh?" The old woman in the seat next to him leans over and digs an elbow into Yuuri's ribs, grinning conspiratorily. Yuuri swallows and tries his best not to gag as another wave of sickly lilac perfume washes over him. "She's single, too. Don't know what the boys are thinking. Give me your phone number, I'll introduce her!! She won't care that you're foreign! She's always flying all over the world, can't stay in one place for more than a few weeks, it's more than time she settles down and starts thinking about babies -"

Why, _why_ had he told her that he spoke English??!?

' - ever since my husband died the children have been so ungrateful, they never visit, they say I'm overbearing! Me!! Have you ever heard anything so ridiculous??!? - "

Yuuri leans back and pinches the bridge of his nose against the threatening headache. Viktor, he reminds himself. Anything for Viktor.

The rest of Yuuri's season had been a resounding success. He had managed another silver at Worlds, three points behind Otabek Altin and just barely ahead of Yuri Plisetsky's bronze, but at Four Continents JJ Leroy had staged a comeback and topped the podium. Phichit Chulanont had scooped up the silver with Yuuri just barely edging Seung-Gil Lee to take the bronze. Yuuri had celebrated with his friend wholeheartedly, delighted that Phichit was achieving so much success in only his first year of competition. Later he had been subjected to a blistering diatribe from Yurio on how he could possibly let "that asshole JJ" win yet another gold medal that ended only when Viktor forceably removed the phone from Yuuri and started scolding Yurio in rapid-fire Russian. Even so Yuuri could still hear the younger skater shrieking about how he was a disgrace to both Russia and Japan. On reflection, Yuuri felt rather flattered. He hadn't known that Yurio cared so much. 

Yuuri and Viktor had parted company after Four Continents, with the former returning home to the Japanese National competition while the later headed to Russia to begin training for his return to the competitive circuit. Yuuri had taken Nationals by storm, obliterating all memory of his disappointing score the previous year by absolutely crushing the competition on his way to the gold. If Minami had not had a nearly terminal case of hero worship before, he certainly did now. But all in all it had been nearly two months since Viktor and Yuuri had last been in the same physical location and though the two had diligently kept in touch through social media and FaceTime, Yuuri was more than ready for it all to be over.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are starting our descent into the St Petersburg airport. Please make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position. Make sure your seat belt is securely fastened and all carry-on luggage is stowed underneath the seat in front of you or in the overhead bins. Thank you. Local time is 5:43 pm and the temperature is a balmy 18 degrees Celsius."

"Oh thank god," Yuuri murmurs, leaning forward.

\----------------------------------------------------------

Twenty minutes later, Yuuri is one of the last passengers off the plane. He had deliberately taken extra time fiddling with his carry-on so as to obligate his seatmate to go on without him. Any more of her chatter or her stomach-churning perfume and he was pretty sure he would hurl. And, truth be told, he was grateful for the extra time. So far the excitement of seeing Viktor again after months apart had drowned out any nerves he might have been feeling, but now, about to set foot in St Petersburg for the very first time, the nerves had returned full-force. It was barely a full year since Viktor had dropped everything to coach Yuuri, and these past two months had been the first time he had been home to Russia for any extended period of time. What if he had changed his mind? What if he has decided this won't work after all. and sends Yuuri right back to Japan?

Stop it, he tells himself firmly. You are being unfair to both yourself and to Viktor. Shouldn't you trust him more than that after all you've been through together?

Still, the nerves stay with him as he navigates the long, crowded concourse, desperately scanning the signage for any indication of where he is supposed to go. Yuuri has picked up some Russian phrases from extended exposure to Viktor and has done his best to brush up on his Cyrillic in the months since the decision to move to Russia had been made, but he is still extremly rusty. Eventually he decides that his best bet is to follow the flow of traffic and just hope for the best.

Arrivals proves to be almost embarrassingly easy to find. Yuuri breathes a prayer of thankfulness as the final glass doors part in front of him. He has been in transit for over sixteen hours at this point and he is so tired of airports, airplanes, and all other things associated with travel. He wants food, a bath, a bed. He wants Viktor. Anxiously he scans the crowd for any sign of a familiar tall form, any flash of silvery hair or piercing blue eyes. But instead he finds - 

"Yurio??" he says incredulously to the familiar slouching black-hooded figure lounging against a pillar with a clear view of the sliding doors. "Why are you here?"

Yuri Plisetsky snarls, detaching himself from the post. "That's still not my name, piggy!!" He glares at Yuuri like he's trying to set him on fire. "That asshole Viktor is such a scatterbrain that he couldn't find his own ass with two hands and a map. If I hadn't been volunteered to navigate he probably would have gotten lost and driven into the Baltic by mistake."

Warm arms wrap around Yuuri from behind. "By which he means," Viktor murmurs by his ear, "that he missed you very much and refused to let me leave if I didn't bring him too."

"WHAT I DID NOT - TAKE THAT BACK, YOU SHITHEAD!!!" Yurio howls, looking like he's about to launch himself across the space to throttle Viktor, but Yuuri isn't listening anymore. He has his face buried in the crook of Viktor's neck and he has Viktor's arms around him and Viktor's hands are stroking his back and at this moment Yuuri is prepared to swear that Russia is the most beautiful country in the world.

"I missed you so much, Yuuri," Viktor murmurs against his hair. "I am so happy that I have you with me again. I can't wait to take you home."

"I missed you too, Vitya. These have been the longest months of my life."

"You two are disgusting," Yurio grumbles. "You're going to be arrested for public indecency."

"True love is a beautiful thing," Viktor says mildly, pulling back from the hug and taking Yuuri's hand instead. "One day you'll understand, Yuratchka."

"I'd shoot myself first. You two make me nauseous." 

"Awwww." Viktor reaches out with his free hand and ruffles the boy's hair. "Jealous, little Yurio??"

"That's not my name!! And get your hands off me, idiot! I don't want your mediocrity rubbing off on me!!"

The two Russian skaters continue to snipe at each other as the trio moves towards the baggage carousel. Yuuri feels a deep sense of contentment steal over him as his insecurities and worries fall away. Viktor still hasn't let go of his hand and even in this unfamiliar place, surrounded by strange faces and language, with Yurio raging angrily about Viktor's latest thoughtlessness, Yuuri feels like he is coming home.

Apruptly he freezes. "Oh god, Viktor, hide me," he hisses urgently, pulling on their clasped hands. "She's found me!!"

Viktor just looks confused, but Yurio follows Yuuri's panicked gaze to the old woman enthusiastically waving from the other side of the carousel - and promptly falls over laughing.

"Oh piggy," he gasps between chortles. "Is that why you smell like a flower graveyard? If you can't handle one _babushka_ , you are going to have a hard, hard time in Russia."

Yuuri glares at him. "I'm not the one who got cornered by fangirls in an alley and had to be rescued by Otabek, _Yuroshka_ ," he hisses. "Keep her away from me! She'll show me more pictures!!!!" On his other side, Viktor too begins to laugh.

Yuuri takes it back. All Russians are clearly evil sadists.

\---------------------------------------------------------

Viktor's flat is huge.

When Viktor had described it to Yuuri during their planning stages, Yuuri had pictured something small, cozy, not unlike his own family's private apartments at Yu-topia. Thus he is entirely unprepared for the sprawling four-bedroom monstrosity in the Petrogradskaya district that Viktor calls home. All he can do is stare in slack-jawed wonderment.

There's even a chandelier.

To his credit, Viktor appears slightly embarrassed. "My father made some sound investments before he died," he attempts to explain. "And...well...being the 'hero of Russia' does have some perks. I...tend to get a lot of sponsorship offers."

Behind them, Yurio makes a rude noise and shoulders past. "Whatever, losers," he scoffs, depositing his jacket on the expensive-looking leather couch in the living area. "Room at the end of the hallway is mine. Do not go in ever or I will end you painfully." He stalks into the kitchen and begins to root around in the fridge. "When's dinner, Viktor?? I'm starving."

Yuuri turns to stare at Viktor, knocked off his feet for the second time in less than ten minutes. "Wait, Yurio lives here??" he asks, stunned.

"Ah...yes," Viktor says breezily. "His other boarding arrangements fell through, and since he's a minor he can't live alone, and Yakov asked me to take him in. It will be amazing, just one big skating family all under one roof!!!"

...okay then. Yuuri swivels to stare at Yurio, who is still digging in the fridge and resolutely not looking at either Yuuri or Viktor, the tops of his ears ever so slightly pink. He has to admit that this was a development that he absolutely had not been expecting. Despite Viktor's cryptic hints to the contrary, Yuuri is still at least 90% convinced that the other Yuri actually genuinely hates him. But if that was the case, why would he voluntarily put himself in a situation where he would not only be training with his (apparent) nemesis, but also sharing living quarters with him? Unless the lure of Viktor really was that strong. 

Actually, Yuuri could state with authority that the lure of Viktor really was that strong.

....well, it couldn't possibly be that bad. It would just be like living with a housecat. A very large, hostile, foul-mouthed housecat.

...maybe they could get him rabies shots??

"It's fine, Viktor," Yuuri assures him. "It's your house, after all. If this is what you think is best, then it's fine by me. i'm sure we'll all make it work."

Viktor visibly relaxes at this response and flashes Yuuri such a dazzling smile that he actually feels himself go weak in the knees. "In that case, ready for the grand tour?"

The flat turns out to be just as spectacular as Yuuri had expected from the entrance hall. The kitchen is a gleaming granite-topped masterpiece of modern appliances, the living spaces tastefully wallpapered and filled with furniture both elegant and comfortable. There are three bathrooms, one dominated by a gigantic marble whirlpool that that practically makes Yuuri whimper with memories of soaking in the Hasetsu hotsprings with Viktor. Finally Viktor stops outside one of the closed bedroom doors, an uncharacteristicly shy expression on his face.

"I wasn't sure where you'd feel comfortable sleeping," he says. "I thought it was better to clearly set aside a space to be your own, so I got one of the guest bedrooms ready for you. I...wanted you to feel at home right away, so I unpacked some of your things for you when they arrived. I hope you like it." He pushes the door open and steps aside, motioning Yuuri forward.

Apprehensively Yuuri moves forward and peers into the room. It takes a minute for his eyes to adjust to the dimness and then his breath catches in his throat. Hesitantly he steps into the room and slowly turns, taking it all in.

The room is wallpapered in a soft blue with simple elegant oak furnishings - bed, table, dresser. The coverlet on the bed is also blue, but this shade is richer, matching the blue of Yuuri's Gala costume from his pas de deux with Viktor. But it is the decorations that really take his breath away. One wall of the room is dominated by a large Japanese flag, underneath which Viktor has arranged all of Yuuri's medals and awards stretching from his junior days until his GPF silver medal (given pride of place). On the opposite wall is a poster of their groundbreaking Gala performance. On the bedside table his faithful Makkachin issue box rests beside a framed photo of all the Grand Prix finalists taken at last year's banquet. It was one of Yuuri's favourite mementos of the event because they all look so happy. Yuuri and Phichit are arm-in-arm giggling at some inside joke nobody else can understand. Christophe is winking at the camera, while JJ has pulled his typical ridiculous pose. Otabek and Yurio are side by side, if not smiling then at least looking moderately content.

Yuuri whirls around to look at Viktor, who is leaning against the doorframe taking in his reaction, eyes soft in the dim light. "Vitya," Yuuri breathes, "It's perfect. Thank you." 

Viktor smiles, his eyes tender. He holds out his hands and Yuuri takes them, gratefully allowing himself to be pulled into Viktor's embrace. "I wanted to find a way to let you know how welcome you are, that this was your home now, too," he murmurs against Yuuri's hair. "This was the best way I could think of. I've been waiting for you so long, solnyshka." Then Yuuri feels Viktor smile against his hair. "But the bet thing about it is that it's right next door to my own bedroom. And I have to tell you that Makkachin would be so disappointed if you spent all your time in here. How would he ever figure out where to sleep? In fact, Yuuri -" Viktor pulls back slightly and fixes him with a look of mock solemnity, eyes dancing "- it would be downright cruel for you to put him through that. I think it's best if you come and sleep with me. You know, for Makkachin's sake."

Yuuri grins back, unable to stop himself. He feels like his chest might actually burst from happiness. "Hmmm," he says. "I'm not sure about that. That bed looks awfully comfortable. What can you possibly offer me to tempt me away from that?"

Viktor's eyes crinkle up at the corners. He bends his head and nips at Yuuri's earlobe. "My bed's bigger." he breathes into his ear, and Yuuri shivers involuntarily. "And softer. And warmer. And altogether better. Don't believe me? Let's go test it out, right now." Viktor's breath is hot on Yuuri's face as he kisses up from his ear to his forehead, across his closed eyelids, down his nose...

Yuuri arches into him blindly seeking more. Yes, he had missed this, he aches for this, and Viktor's hands are on his waist and Viktor's lips are on his, and.....

"Hey! ASSHOLES!! There's nothing to eat in this house!!!!"

The romantic mood pops like an overinflated balloon and Yuuri is pretty sure right now he would cheerfully strangle Yurio. He's pretty sure that Viktor can read the frustration on his face because the older man huffs a laugh and rests his forehead against Yuuri's. "Later, _zvezda moya_ ," he promises softly. "Let the anticipation make it all the sweeter."

Yuuri snorts quietly. "Viktor, if that were true we would both have nothing but cavities by now," he retorts but nevertheless follows the other man back out to the common area.

Yurio is leaning against the bar, looking so disgruntled that Yuuri wouldn't be surprised to see a cartoon thundercloud hovering just over his head.

"Viktor, you were supposed to go shopping two days ago," he declares, annoyance apparent in every syllable. "I reminded you four times. How could you STILL MANAGE TO FORGET???!?"

Viktor shrugs, unconcerned. "I've been busy, Yura. I'm sure it's not so bad. There must be something!"

Yurio glares even harder. "We have two apples, one loaf of stale bread, and half a head of wilting cabbage. Why do you think I told you to go shopping in the first place?"

"Well, how was I supposed to know that? I hardly eat at home!"

"That's why I told you about it, you shitheel!!! I'm pretty sure part of the rent I'm paying you is supposed to go towards making sure I don't STARVE TO DEATH!!"

Yuuri follows this exchange with a dawning sense of comprehension and a corresponding growth of mirth. 'Wait, does this mean that neither of you know how to cook?" he interjects, needing to prove his growing hunch correct.

Viktor shakes his head ruefully. "I've always been too busy with training and competing to really learn, and Yurio is only fifteen," he says. Then his eyes light up hopefully. "Yuuri, does that mean that you...." he trails off.

Yuuri shakes his head laughing, no longer able to contain his hilarity. "My parents cooked when I was living at home, and at college I lived in a dorm," he explains. "I'm just as useless as the two of you, I'm afraid." At Viktor's almost comically downcast expression he is rocked by another wave of laughter. "It's like an American sitcom," he wheezes. "All of us. We're all stereotypes."

Yurio scowls and slouches yet more. "I'm glad you find this so hilarious, katsudon, but the original problem remains. There's three of us and no food, and I for one am starving. Any ideas right now would be really great."

As if on cue, the buzzer rings.

\----------------------------------------------

Within five minutes of meeting her, Yuuri is convinced that Mila Babicheva is in fact the demon spawn of the unholy union of Takeshi Nishigori and Christophe Giacometti. 

(He is also pretty sure he's going to have to bleach his brain to get rid of that mental image.)

"YOU LET HER IN????" Yurio screeches as Mila drops her baggage by the front door. 'Viktor have you gone completely crazy???"

"Oh Yuratchka, so hostile," she coos. "Don't I get a hug?" She holds out her arms with such a beaming look of total innocence that Yuuri cannot help but snort, which turns into full-blown laughter as Yurio actually trips over himself in his rush to flee.

"Piggy, don't trust her," he warns, glaring balefully from behind the kitchen island. "She is pure evil. She eats men's souls."

"Then you shouldn't have anything to worry about, seeing as you've already sold yours to Lilia and Yakov," she says sweetly and turns to Yuuri. "You must be the Japanese Yuri! Neither of these two idiots have shut up about you for the past month." She scrutinizes his face and nods once decisively. "I can see why you like him, Vitenka. He is pretty cute. No wonder our little Russian Fairy is so jealous."

Yuuri feels a blush begin to spread across his face as Yurio howls his fury in the background.

Viktor just grins at her. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, Mila, but....what are you doing here? This is hardly on your route home."

Mila waves her hand dismissively. "Yakov sent me. You didn't let him know before you took off from practice this afternoon. He wanted me to tell you that he expects you and both Yuris at the rink tomorrow. Think he wants to scope out the new addition." She gestures to the multiple bags clogging the entryway behind her. "Plus I brought groceries. Yura's been complaining at practice for days now, and I know that both you two losers are hopeless at cooking. Someone needed to welcome Yuuri to Russia properly."

"Also you're a nosy harpy," Yurio grouses. "Yakov owns a phone, he didn't have to send you to harrass us."

"Also that," Mila agrees, smiling beatifically. "Come on, Viktor, you know the whole rink's dying to meet him. I'm just more resourceful than most."

Yuuri feels himself pale. He had thought he would have more of a buffer before having to face Yakov Feltsman again, and clearly he had vastly underestimated how much of a splash his arrival was going to make with the other Russian skaters if Mila had come all the way just to peer at him. The first stirrings of his surpressed nerves start clawing their way up his spine. What would they think of him? What if they resented him for coming here to take yet more of Viktor's time and attention away from his career? He has a sudden wild fantasy of himself pinned to the ice like some exotic bug on a card while the Russian skaters examine him with a giant magnifying glass and Yurio smirks on the sidelines - and then he shakes his head hard to dispel it. 

_You're a Grand Prix medallist,_ he reminds himself. _You're a match for anyone. Snap out of it._

Viktor has apparently noticed the new turn Yuuri's thoughts because he comes over to stand by him and squeezes his hand comfortingly. "Mila, you said something about food...?" Viktor says, deliberately changing the subject, and Yuuri feels a stab of gratitude. "I don't want to rush you but I think Yura might waste away if we don't stuff some food in his mouth soon."

"I'm fine," Yurio says shortly. "Besides, I bet the hag can't actually cook anyway."

Mila flips him off. "I'm Ukrainian," she says. "You get disowned at sixteen if you haven't figured out cooking by then." She hefts the bags with an easy strength that Yuuri finds strangely at odds with her petite frame. Plunking them down on the kitchen counter, she gestures at Viktor and Yuuri. "You two go sit down. As for you, Yuri," she says and tosses a package of chicken at him. "I have a job for you. Pound these with a mallet until they're nice and flat."

"I will imagine each of them is your face," Yurio snarls, but to Yuuri's surprise he doesn't protest further but joins Mila in the kitchen.

"What's the deal with them?" he inquires curiously as Viktor leads him back into the livingroom. 

"What, Mila and Yurio?" Viktor laughs. "They've practically grown up together. They're the youngest skaters at the rink. Yakov took them on at about the same time. Yurio pretends to hate her but secretly I think he'd be a little lost if he didn't have her around. So many skaters are in awe of him, I think she helps him stay grounded." There is a crash from the kitchen and Yurio curses loudly. "Plus it's hilarious," Viktor adds.

"Mmmm," Yuuri says, distracted. He and Viktor are alone at last and suddenly he feels himself feeling unaccountably shy. He sneaks tiny glances at Viktor, eyes dwelling on the familiar, beloved face. He's missed those sparkling blue eyes, the sharp definition of his jaw, the subtle undercut of his silvery hair and the way his half-fringe constantly falls across one eye. Yuuri had thought he had Viktor's face memorized but the more he looks at him the more he realizes that mere memory is not enough. There will always be new things to discover.

Viktor must be thinking along the same lines, because he reaches out and captures Yuuri's hand. "Now about earlier," he says, teasing, "I think I promised you a tour of my bedroom? I seem to remember a challenge about "tempting you away?""

Yuuri giggles, feeling his heart lift. "Why yes, Mr. Nikiforov, I believe you are correct," he says in mock solemnity. "I recall some pretty extravagant promises regarding the quality of the sleeping arrangements. I do so hope you can deliver."

Viktor pouts jokingly. "Why Yuuri, do you doubt me?? I am wounded, wounded to the core! Follow me and I will prove all my claims and more besides." And, tugging Yuuri by their still-clasped hands, Viktor leads him across the apartment and into the quiet privacy of the master bedroom.

\--------------------------------------

Viktor's bed is indeed bigger. And comfier. And warmer. But most importantly, it has Viktor in it.

"Do you remember all those times in Hasetsu when I would ask you for a slumber party? I wish I knew all I had to do was lure you with plush blankets." Viktor's voice is fond and teasing as he gently cards his fingers through Yuuri's hair.

"Mmrrrrrrphgg," is Yuuri's eloquent reply. He currently has his face pressed into the join between Viktor's neck and shoulder and he has absolutely no intention of moving any time soon. Not when he is so comfortable and warm. And especially not when Viktor smells so very good. They had hardly gotten inside the room before Yuuri had basically tackled Viktor to the bed, thoroughly unwilling to wait any longer for the comfort and affection he had been deprived of for so long. "You realize Yurio probably thinks we're up to something unspeakable in here."

The amusement in Viktor's voice deepens. "Why, Yuuri, was that a suggestion? You need only ask."

Yuuri snorts a laugh into Viktor's neck and rolls over slightly so that his chin is propped up on Viktor's chest and he can look the other man in the eyes. "I just want you to hold me for now," he says softly. "It's been such a long day, Viktor. I'm not sure I fully believe I'm here yet."

"Not regretting it, are you?"

Yuuri shakes his head vigorously. "Even without you, this is the best move for my career. I knew I couldn't stay in Hasetsu forever. That's why I was training with Celestino in the first place. I know this is where I need to be. But you have to understand, it still feels like a dream. Moving to Russia, training under Yakov with you, with Yurio...a year ago if I'd dared to think this would be my life I would have accused myself of losing sight of reality."

Viktor hums softly in understanding. Then he grins wickedly. "A dream, hey? Does that make me the man of your dreams? You should have told me!!"

Yuuri gasps then shoves him hard in the side. "Like you need my help with that overinflated head of yours, you egomaniac," he says, trying to be stern but utterly failing to contain his giggles. While Viktor fake-moans about his 'despair' Yuuri scoots over and flops over the other man's chest so that they're nose to nose. He is slyly pleased to see the amusement drain out of the other man's eyes at the determination reflected in his own. "You keep saying how I need to improve my confidence, so how about a challenge? Like Yurio and I at the Onsen on Ice. Whoever ends the season with the most gold medals has to do whatever the other says."

The smile that spreads over Viktor's face at this pronouncement is absolutely devilish. "My, my, Yuuri, you have grown. But are you sure you know what you're doing? I'm a five-time Grand Prix winner, after all, and everyone knows I can be quite....demanding." Suddenly with just a flick of his hips Viktor flips them over and Yuuri finds himself pinned to the mattress with Viktor's face just inches from his own. He swallows involuntarily and feels his heart lurch at the sheer heat in Viktor's eyes.

"So basically what I'm saying, little piggy," he breathes in Yuuri's ear, "is 'you're on.' And you'd better be prepared to deliver at the end."

This.....might not have been his smartest decision. 


End file.
